


Settling a Debt

by thatforgottenbasilisk



Series: Cleaning My Tumblr [5]
Category: A Heist With Markiplier, A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Death Row, Other, also the reader is the DA but AO3 doesn't wanna tell you that, but even then it's iffy, except the reader i guess, i know it's tagged rpf but it doesnt involve real people i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-01-25 23:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatforgottenbasilisk/pseuds/thatforgottenbasilisk
Summary: What if Yancy ended up on Death Row? I forgot who had the original idea bc they changed their url srry
Relationships: Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier)/Reader
Series: Cleaning My Tumblr [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540171
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Death Row concept by renegade---monkey on tumblr (im new to ao3 idk how to link things sorry)  


He couldn’t believe it. Yancy’d caused a bit’a trouble, sure, what prisoner didn’t, but…

At least he was gonna see Y/N one last time. Today was visitation, at least. Then tomorrow was it. He was gonna go to the “beyond,” some call it. Yancy had always preferred the more blunt phrasing; tomorrow he was gonna kick the bucket.

He killed too many other prisoners. It was just to be sure he could stay! But, ah, the folks higher up didn’t see it like that. They said he was a danger to the other prisoners. They just didn’t get it!

Visitation came and went. Y/N was excited, they were sure that he’d get out on parole next time it came around, and he could stay in their apartment, because they’d prepared a spare room. They would teach him how to navigate in the real world, and they’d have a nice domestic life together. Yancy made sure to keep up a smile the whole time. Better not to worry them over something that they couldn’t change.

He didn’t sleep well. Nobody would, knowing that it was their last night alive.

He saw his last sunrise, then. Peeking through the bars of the window of his cell. Pinks and oranges and everything. Birds singin’.

He was lead to where it was gonna happen. Everything was a daze. They sat him down. Time was moving way too fast and way too slow. Is this what they all mean when they say your life flashes before your eyes?

Suddenly everything stopped. This wasn’t right. They hadn’t even strapped him in yet, why was he already going? He had to be going, too, or why would time have stopped?

Then he noticed a noise. An awful noise, like everything was stretching and growing and breaking apart around him. His vision warped, and suddenly he wasn’t in the chamber anymore.

It was…he couldn’t even describe it. It wasn’t a room, it wasn’t outside. All that Yancy could actually say for sure about it was that it was completely pitch black. And that it was wrong.

“Hello, _Yancy_."

His name sounded wrong coming from the stranger. The stranger _seemed_ wrong, like his very existence was a crime against nature itself. He wore a white suit, and a falsely calm, collected, and confident attitude that Yancy could spot from a mile away. There was some profound sense of unease around the stranger, that Yancy felt that he’d never be able to figure out on his own. What didn’t help was the flickering of red and blue around him, which felt like pieces of the universe around him bending to allow his power to even exist, too much for his body to contain so it must be radiating _out._

"Who are _youse_?"

Two could play at the false attitudes game.

“I am of no significance to you. I am merely delivering on my end of a deal.”

A _deal_ from this entity did not sound pleasant in the slightest. 

“It seems that someone particularly cared for you. Do not ask me _why,_ just know that someone decided to cash in on a very expensive favor for your miserable life.”

He must’ve owed someone big time, then, for him so sound this, well, pissed, over getting him out of the Chair. Come to think of it, it seemed like Yancy now owed ‘em this big debt. He didn’t even know who it was.

“What’s the deal, then, if ya don’t mind me asking?”

Oh that really pissed him off. Yancy could _see_ it, with more and more flickers of red, and was that multiple versions of him, making different motions and then reconvening into one single form?

The stranger took a moment to compose himself. Then, finally, he nearly spat,

“That is none of your concern. I am here only because I owed a great deal to someone else. I owe _you_ nothing. No answers, no words.”

There was a great creaking sound, suddenly, and the void around him seemed to expand. Everything was dilating, creaking, breaking again, and Yancy decided that this was the worst feeling in the world, damn the Chair.

Yancy was falling, and then he crashed onto his back, on the floor of somewhere that felt familiar, though he was sure that he’d never been there before. He was in what appeared to be a living room, attached to a kitchenette. There was a hallway leading into what he assumed was the rest of the apartment, which appeared to be small, but not cramped.

Suddenly Yancy heard a door slam and someone come barreling down the long hallway. He sat up quickly to get a look at who it was, and he saw Y/N, bent over their knees, huffing and puffing for breath.

“Hey…Yancy…I hope…he treated you…well?”

This explained why the apartment felt familiar. It felt exactly like he thought Y/N’s apartment would feel, after having it described to him over many months of visitation.

“Woah, woah, catch youse’s breath first. Don’t want ya passing out on me, huh?”

Y/N acquiesced, and sat down on the soft-looking couch to rest. They had clearly been rushing about for a while, likely cleaning, seeing that the apartment was far neater than one belonging to Y/N, or any breathing person for that matter, had any right to be. Once he was sure that Y/N had reached a semi-normal breathing rate, he asked the question he’d had on his mind since he first laid eyes on that stranger.

“So, uh…who was he?”

Y/N paled slightly, as if they hadn’t expected the question, or simply didn’t like the prospect of answering. Yancy figured that if he were involved with someone like that, he wouldn’t like talking about ‘em either. Still, he wanted an answer.

“He’s…an old acquaintance. He owed me for something that I gave him, long ago. His debt to me’s been settled now.”

That was the kind of answer that Yancy hated, the kind that sounded like it was actually telling you something but was actually just a load of hot air. Yancy didn’t push it, though. Y/N clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and he could respect that. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t still be curious.

“What’d youse give him that’s so big? No offense, but, ah, he didn’t really seem the type to honor an old gambling debt or something, ya know?”

Y/N seemed to struggle with themselves for a moment. 

“Ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

“Didn’t satisfaction bring it back?”

Yancy gave a small grin to Y/N. He felt that it showed that they didn’t have to answer if they really didn’t want to. He hoped that that message had gotten across, anyways.

Y/N seemed to understand what the grin meant. They relaxed, then, and said;

“How about we get you settled in before getting into this?”

Yancy understood the message within those words; he wasn’t being brushed off, and the discussion was being tabled. Not discarded, simply postponed. He’d get his answers someday, even if not today. He could wait.

And in the meantime, he had a whole lot more life to get to.


	2. Chapter 2

_"How could you?"_

**"How could I _what?"_**

"You know _damn_ well what I'm talking about! He's one of ours -- no -- he's one of _yours._ How could you sit here and do nothing? How could you just let him _die?"_

**"He'll come back easily. With how much the fans love him? I doubt he could stay dead for a week."**

"That doesn't mean he needs to die in the first place! You and I both know what it could do to him. What it did to us. What it did to _you."_

There was silence after that. Y/N stared at Dark for what felt like years -- perhaps it was years. Time passed -- passes -- is passing -- will pass -- differently there. Y/N was breathing hard after they shouted at Dark, even if they didn't really need to. It had been so long since the last time they shouted. It had been so long since the last time they had a voice. Dark stared back, looking as still and lifeless as a corpse -- there was no ringing around him. There were no echoes of his tortured souls screaming for release. There was only silence.

For most, it would be a very dangerous silence. It was the silence of a line being crossed. It was the silence of the instant before the bomb blew, the instant before the trigger was pulled -- for most. Y/N was not most. Dark could do things to them, certainly. Dark had the power to do things that no living being could dream of, things far beyond the most terrible torturer's imagination. Y/N was not a living being, however. Dark could hurt them however he wished, but the fact remains that they had been through far worse already.

Besides, Dark was very hesitant to hurt them at all. They crossed lines, they disrespected him, and they were a nuisance to have around if he wanted any semblance of order; but they had always been one of his dearest friends. He has always respected them, just as he has always respected Wilford. Their little trio de folie had existed for a very long time, as long as Dark and Y/N had been dead. It had existed even before then, too, but it had been four. Five, if you count the Actor. Nobody does.

Y/N took in a deep breath. They still didn't need to, but perhaps it was a habit. Perhaps it kept them sane, in the mirror.

"I can't save him. You know that."

Dark nodded once, slowly, in acknowledgement.

_"You_ can."

**"That doesn't mean that I _will._ I am still trying to find Mark after _you_ lost him, in case you've forgotten."**

_"It's not my fault that he died!"_

The words rang through the space for a moment. For the first time, the lack of words did not mean silence. The ringing continued, but at this point the words were gone. There was only Y/N, seething in anger at Dark.

"I played my part just _fine,_ thank you very much. _He_ went and got himself killed. Again. It's not my fault that this time was the one that stuck."

**"We both know that it never 'sticks' with him. He'll be back. He always is."**

"And when that time comes, you still need _me_ to play his little sidekick. You don't think he'd suspect something when I look like someone died? Oh wait. He _will_ have died, because you were too concerned with revenge to do your damn _job!"_

**"It's not my job to keep them alive. Only to keep them from Fading. He's far from doing _that,_ so as far as he's concerned, my job is _done."_**

"You know what? _Fine._ It's not your job to keep him alive. But in case you forgot, _Damien,_ you owe me. That is _my_ body that you're using. You put _me_ in that mirror for ninety _fucking_ years. So how about this: a body for a body. A soul for a soul. You save him, and that debt is paid."

**"And if I don't?"**

"Then I guess our little _Hero_ is a one-man act once again."

**"You wouldn't _dare._ You want his head on a pike just as much as I do."**

"He got me out. Not you. So if you're not even willing to acknowledge the _shit_ that I went through for you, I'd be willing to forgive him. At least he's acting _sorry."_

There was no speaking for a long moment. Dark's ringing became louder and louder, as he was forced to choose between one of his dearest friends and his worst enemy. Red and blue echoes of him showed themselves, screaming, tearing at their hair, sobbing. <strike>Don't let the red fool you. She isn't here</strike>

** _"Fine."_ **

"Good. By the way, Dark -- thanks for the voice."

**"You know _he'd_ never have deigned to give you one. Now, are you going to visit the prisoner or not?"**

There was an odd amount of amusement in his voice at that. It was almost as if he'd never had any argument at all.

"Of course. Today's the first visitation, after all. Though, I wouldn't be opposed if it was tomorrow, I do need a disguise. Mayhaps it is tomorrow? You never can tell here, can you? Goodbye, then, Dark."

Their attitude was also as though they had not just been in a screaming match with one of their best friends. Then, as certainly as they were there, they weren't. It was almost as if they teleported away.

They hadn't, of course, but the way that they left was so quick that they might as well have. Dark was left alone there, for a moment. He'd come to enjoy the silence of this place, where the only sound was the echo of one's own words. Many find the silence stifling. Mayhaps he would have too, a very long time ago. Back when he was alive, of course. Death for him was always very loud; the silence of the grave was both something that didn't exist and something that he often longed for. He allowed the silence to envelop him, to let it soothe his nerves, before he had to go back to his work.

Finally, he adjusted his broken neck -- he doesn't think he'll ever get used to that -- with a great crack, and with that, he was gone, the Void empty and silent once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what nerds im adding chapters to this bitch woop woop
> 
> also: trio de folie means trio of madness, according to google translate. my limited knowledge of french says it checks out, but if it's wrong please lmk
> 
> also also: maybe check out my [tumblr](https://thatforgottenbasilisk.tumblr.com/) ig


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